Spring training has arrived, which always used to make me smile. But a sadness lingers within as well. Alex Rodriguez's admission that he used steroids means baseball's best hope of removing the asterisk (or syringe?) from two of the sport's most hallowed records has vanished.
Oh, I know there's no official asterisk by Barry Bonds' records for most homers in a single season and a career. But anyone who believes his numbers aren't tainted by the specter of steroids isn't viewing the situation with clear eyes.
As far as I'm concerned, Hank Aaron is still the home run king and Roger Maris reigns once again as the man who hit the most home runs in a single season. I don't know that baseball can ever officially remove Bonds from the top of the list, even if he is convicted of federal crimes linked to the use of steroids. But the court of public opinion issues its own rulings, and its verdict will be clear.
I almost feel sad for Rodriguez. Feeling intense pressure to prove worthy of that insane contract handed him by the Texas Rangers, he succumbed to the temptation to give his body --- and his performance --- a "stimulus package" that would boost his numbers. Ironically, it would have taken more courage, more determination, to rely on his God-given ability and noted work ethic to produce at the levels which earned him that record-breaking contract in the first place.
His desire to "please" reflected itself in another way once he got to New York: he so wanted to excel and earn the respect and admiration of Yankee fans that he is accused in some circles of virtually stalking Derek Jeter, "Mr. Yankee." But the Yanks haven't won a World Series since Rodriguez arrived, and that distinction - plus his failure to perform well in the playoffs - is likely what earned him the nickname "A-Fraud" from his teammates. That's just a guess, since I haven't yet read the book in which former manager Joe Torre reveals A-Rod's unflattering clubhouse moniker.
Now folks are calling him "A-Fraud" for another reason. His steroid use will forever taint his numbers and his legacy. And, frankly, it should.
I realize some folks are dismissing the Steroid Era as just another example of players looking for an edge to maximize performance, a practice that dates back almost as far as the game itself. But I don't buy that. Drinking egg yolks or eating your spinach or building hand strength by squeezing small rubber balls is one thing. Injecting foreign substances into your body to create artificially induced strength or add a few miles per hour to your fast ball is another.
Generations of baseball players even stayed away from lifting weights because the school of thought was that too much muscle inhibited the body's natural movement, and speed of hands and fluidity of motion for running and throwing was deemed far more important than muscle mass.
But fans love the home run. Remember how they filled the stands to see the exploits of Mark McGwire, Jose Canseco, Sammy Sosa and Bonds? It's no wonder baseball's brass was so quick to dismiss the whispers of widespread steroid use. They didn't call Yankee Stadium "The House That Ruth Built" because the Babe was a master at bunting the ball.
I remember thinking when all those hallowed marks were being challenged and surpassed in the late '90s that it was too good to be true. Turns out I was right.
Those home runs don't seem real any more. Public enmity and distrust triggered by the Steroid Era, combined with the deep recession now shackling the country, figures to cast a shadow over baseball for years.
It makes me wonder how many people will be changing the words of that storied 7th-inning stretch ditty to "Take Me Out of the Ballgame."
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